


Upon A Painted Ocean

by ScarlettFAngell



Category: The Mandalorian (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Awkward Flirting, Blood and Gore, Blood and Injury, Blow Jobs, Boba Fett Being a Jerk, Boba Fett is a BAMF, Din Djarin is a BAMF, Din accidentally inherits the Mandalorian throne, Eventual Smut, Fennec is a Brat, Fennec is a cock block, Grogu Likes to Eat Things, Grogu is an Elf, Grogu | Baby Yoda Being a Little Shit, Hand Jobs, Here there be dragons, Injury Recovery, Jedis are Sorcerers, M/M, Mando'a Language (Star Wars), Moff Gideon is a Sith, Mutual Pining, Oblivious Din Djarin, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Pirate King Boba, Pirate!Boba Fett, Slow Burn, Swords & Sorcery, The Force, Typical Fantasy Violence, fustrated boba, kind of, looking after a toddler
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-07
Updated: 2021-01-06
Packaged: 2021-03-17 14:26:44
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,724
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28601415
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ScarlettFAngell/pseuds/ScarlettFAngell
Summary: Din and The Child are on the run from an Imperial officer and his hunters when they encounter a dragon, an infamous pirate named Boba Fett and, after months of searching, the Jedi sorcerer, Luke goddamn Skywalker.Or the Fantasy!AU no one asked for where Din just keeps digging a deeper hole. Boba totally digs it, though.
Relationships: Din Djarin & Grogu | Baby Yoda & Luke Skywalker, Din Djarin & Migs Mayfeld, Din Djarin/Boba Fett
Comments: 16
Kudos: 109





	Upon A Painted Ocean

**One**

**_Din was pushing Crest_ **hard. He knew he was, but he had the Child and a furious Imperial Officer chasing him. Along with a whole platoon of his dark troopers. Fuck. Fucking fuck. They’d been galloping headlong into the dark for hours, storm raging around them but somehow not drenching them as badly as the unstable and rocky, root-covered ground beneath them. Crest made a soft noise of distress and slid down an incline without warning, tossing her head. It jostled them both and Din yanked the Child closer to him, tightening his grip. The boy pressed into his chest with a whine the mare’s hoof caught on something—probably a stray root—and sent the three of them tumbling down into the gully beneath them and into the knee-deep water rushing through it. Something hit his helmet and then caught him behind the knee, making him hiss in pain and discomfort. He reached for the thing and swore—fuck, it was a branch. He shoved it away, turning his head, almost blind because of the water and sleeting rain. 

“Shit! Kid?” Din called, struggling up onto his feet and fighting the current. The boy was no longer in his arms. He’d lost him, probably in their tumble down into the river. Shit. No, he’d needed to find him! He heard a little sob off to his left and a soft whicker from Crest and turned towards them, pulse pounding and heart practically in his throat. “Kid!”

“Papa!”

He scrambled towards them through the water, touching the hilt of his sword for reassurance as he stumbled over large, loose rocks, his knee protesting. Moff had gotten a good hit in earlier and even with the kid’s healing, it still ached. He finally got close and swallowed thickly. Crest was down and the Child was sitting by her head, petting her neck gently. Din could barely see them in the dim light but he could tell something was wrong. 

“Papa,” the boy cried, looking up and Din sighed in relief at the sight of pale skin and pointed ears glowing slightly in the filtered light of the half moon through the treetops. “Papa...hurt? Hurt?”

Din collapsed to his knees beside the kid and Crest, not caring that they were in freezing cold water and getting wetter and colder by the second. “N-No... I’m fine, kiddo. What about Crest? She alright?”

“Cre’t...hurt...hurt, papa,” the kid murmured, turning back to stroke over her neck again.

Well, shit. Din exhaled heavily and started running his hands over the grey-and-cream Appaloosa’s sides and legs, whatever he could reach. She was soaked and not just with water and fuck, his bow was broken. He’d have to find or make a new one. And probably get a new fucking horse. Crest was losing a lot of blood. At least the saddlebags seemed to have fared better. 

“Y-Yeah,” he said, somewhat shakily. “She’s hurt. Can’t tell how badly, kid. Can’t see much—“

“Me help?” 

Din paused, glancing over at the boy and taking in the dark curls plastered to his head, water dripping into the boy’s eyes and making him look like a drowned rat. “What?”

“Me,” the kid repeated, thumbing a fist against his chest for emphasis. “Me help, papa. Me help.”

His blood ran cold and Din shook his head almost violently, yanking the helmet off with a grunt and giving the kid a look. It didn’t seem to phase the kid. “No, kid. We...we can’t risk it—“

“Me. Help.”

And with that, the kid placed his hands on Crest’s elegant neck and scrunched up his face in concentration. Din couldn’t bring himself to stop him, not even when the glow started up and everything small started up around them, especially their hair. He knew it was a bad idea, but the kid was terrible when told no and he didn’t really want to stop him anyway. This was his fucking horse the kid wanted to help. How could he say no? 

Crest whinnied and tried to struggle but then the glow faded and everything settled back down. Din didn’t feel the cold now but he was distressed. Moff Gideon had to have felt that. He’d know where they were... Fuck, they had to move. The kid swayed and mumbled something that sounded a lot like done now before Din rammed his helmet back on and scrambled forwards to catch him. Crest was trying to climb to her feet now so he hoisted the kid up onto one hip and grabbed her reins in the other, limping out of the freezing creek to lead her up the other side of the gully. They had to keep moving.

  
  


**_Dawn broke cold and dark_ **as Din stumbled into the tiny village. The kid had woken up about a half hour ago and made soft, happy noises before pointing in the village’s vague direction. Din had blindly followed his directions and now they were here, a drenched Mandalorian, a drenched child and an equally drenched horse who did not look impressed. And all three were covered in blood and scratches, clothes torn and dirty. At least the damn storm was over. 

The few villagers that were already up and puttering about sent him and the Child odd, wary looks but Din didn’t care. Moff hadn’t caught up, he hadn’t found them. That was a good sign in his books. As long as it stayed that way, the kid would be safe. Who knows what the dark sorcerer wanted from them? Especially the kid? He just...he couldn’t let it happen. He’d made the mistake of almost leaving him there once before. Din wouldn’t make it again. 

He grunted and dropped onto a knee as it gave out. Fuck. Not now. Not now, when they were making progress... When they had distance between them and the Moff. Shit. Din ground his teeth together, trying to ignore the squirming three-year old on his hip.

“Kid,” he hissed, head hanging as the boy squirmed more and then patted him on the cheek of his helmet. “Quit it—“

“Papa?”

Fuck. How could he ignore that look? Those big brown eyes and the quivering bottom lip. Oh, no. No, no, nonono. He couldn’t have the kid fucking crying now. Din let go of Crest’s reins and thumped down on his ass in the middle of the road, tugging the Child into his arms with a sigh. 

“Oh, kid,” he breathed and pressed their foreheads together, hindered slightly by his helm. He ignored the looks they got as people passed by and exhaled heavily. “Hey, now. Don’t cry. You’re safe, we’re safe...”

Someone cleared their throat and Din groaned, glancing up at them. A man stood over them, watching them carefully. He tensed, eyes darting over the man even as his helmet didn’t move an inch. He hadn’t even heard him approaching. Fuck. He needed to _sleep_.

“Can I help you?” Din asked, voice level, tone careful. There was a twitch in the man’s cheek. 

“You’re in my village,” the man grunted, hands planted on his hips. Din glanced around carefully, blinking slowly. The man’s clothing wasn’t much better than the others, but it was a slightly better cut and quality. And there was a fucking badge on his shoulder. Shit, the village had a guard. “And my people don’t like it.”

He sighed and stiffly climbed to his feet, careful with his injured knee. The kid had healed it, yeah, but it had been a rushed job and Din knew he’d probably need to treat it properly. The man backed up, watching as Din snagged Crest’s reins and tugged her closer until he could lean against her to stay upright. If he was this tired, the kid was probably _exhausted_. 

“Sorry,” he got out when he was upright, trying not to look when a couple of villagers scattered away from them. “Kinda had a tough night.” He shrugged and wiggled his knee, trying not to wince at the movement. Pain was radiating up into his thigh and hip now, and he knew it’d get worse before it got better. “I can leave...just as soon as the kid and I get some supplies and rest.”

The man’s face softened slightly as he glanced towards the kid. “Name’s Migs,” he said, giving Din a sharp nod. “Migs Mayfeld. I watch over the village with a couple others.”

“Well met, Migs,” Din told him, awkwardly shifting his hold on the kid and the horse to offer him a hand. Migs took it. “I’m Mando. That’s the kid. And the horse is Crest.”

One of Migs’s eyebrows shots up and he nodded, shaking Din’s hand once before releasing it and turning to gesture over his shoulder. “You can stay in the guard’s shack with us for a bit. I’ll send someone to fetch supplies. Looks like you guys need some rest for sure, and _maybe_ some healing.” He eyed Din’s knee, frowning. “Rough storm we had, yeah?”

“Yeah...” He nodded for Migs to lead the way and together they headed off down the road to the little guard’s shack near the far end of town. It wasn’t that far away but fuck, it was murder on Din’s knee. He’d gotten Gideon back twice as bad, though. 

“So, what happened?” Migs asked as they walked and Din grunted. 

“Pissed the wrong person off,” he admitted with a weak laugh. “Worst idea I’ve ever had but the kid’s worth it.”

Migs squinted down at the kid and the boy perked up, giving the man a little wave. The other man waved back. “Hey kiddo. You look like a womp rat.”

The kid giggled and ducked his head, hiding his grin against Din’s shoulder, cheek pressed against cool Beskar. Din tightened his grip on the kid and stumbled, nearly dropping him. 

“Shi—“

“Mando.” He glanced up. They had reached the guard’s shack and Migs was watching him expectantly. “Need a hand?”

“Yeah,” he grunted and lifted the kid off his hip. “Take the kid. I need to sit down.”

Migs took the kid, a little gingerly but his grip was firm, and settled him on his hip. The boy giggled and squirmed, pressing closer to the other man. “You good?”

Din grunted again and let go of Crest’s reins, gingerly lowering himself down onto the steps outside the shack. The mare didn’t move away, butting her head into his shoulder. Din ignored her, watching as Migs leaned against a pole holding up the shack’s crumbling veranda. 

“Will be once the kid and I rest.”

The other man studied him for a moment then huffed and set the kid down. The boy waddled off towards the door and tugged the door open. Din twisted to watch as he disappeared inside then glanced at Migs. 

“What?” the man asked, lifting a shoulder on a half-shrug. “It’s the safest place for him, probably.”

“Probably?” Din asked, tilting his head some more. Migs huffed and leaned a little heavier into the pole. 

“Problem with that?”

Din grunted. “No. Just make sure you watch what he puts in his mouth.” He huffed a laugh and leaned back a little, resting his elbows on the top step. “Caught him with a frog in his mouth once. Little shit ate it.”

“He did _what?_ ”

Din laughed and then shifted forward to check on the armour over his leg, inspecting it carefully. There was an obvious set of holes that showed where a blade hand gone clean through, sneaking in through a gap in his armour. It would’ve crippled another man, but he had the kid so it had been healed...sort of. 

Migs looked absolutely horrified for a second and then pushed off the pole, stalking up the steps and into the shack. Din smirked, not that the man would see it considering the helmet but, well. The man’s reaction to that was worth it. 

“Don’t put that in your damn mouth, kid!”

There was some banging and the crash of what sounded like a chair falling over and then the kid was toddling back out onto the veranda with a strange sphere in one hand and an angry Migs right on his tail. The Child tumbled into his lap, grip tight on the sphere. Din eased the boy’s tumble and held him close, turning to watch Migs carefully. The boy tucked the hand holding the sphere in tight against his chest and then hid his face against Din’s chest with a soft distressed sound. 

“ _Udesii, ad'ika, udesii_ ,” Din murmured, smoothing a hand down the boy’s back. “What did you find that our new friend doesn’t want you to put in your mouth, hm?”

The Child hesitated then pulled his hand free and held up the orb. “Papa, spec...speci...”

“Special, huh?” he asked, hand sliding up to cup the back of the kid’s head. The boy grinned and nodded, and Din pushed his fingers into the kid’s hair, gently stroking. “Brat. Let me see it?”

The boy slowly uncurled from where he’d pressed himself against Din and offered up the little silver orb for inspection. “Papa, look!”

Din shook his hand free from the kid’s hair and gently took the sphere from him, turning it this way and that so the sunlight bounced off it. “It’s pretty, kid.” He handed it back and the kid took it gleefully, much to the annoyance of Migs, who stood by with a sour look on his face. “Why’d you pick it up?”

The kid squirmed and tucked his hands in close to his chest again, holding the little thing tightly to him. “Is mine... Saw, papa... Is mine.”

He frowned, head tilted in confusion. What the hell did that mean? Was it a Jedi thing? Or an elf thing? Din wasn’t sure he’d ever figure that out. The kid was a bit of an enigma to him, to be honest. He sighed and sagged a little, deflating. “Ask Migs if you can keep it.”

The Child turned his big, brown eyes on Migs. Din knew he was giving him the puppy-dog-eyes look and sighed. For a moment, it didn’t look like the other man was going to do anything and then he sagged. 

“Mine? Keep?” Again with the puppy-eyes. Damn the kid for that. 

Migs snorted and rolled his eyes. “Fine,” he grunted, waving the kid off. “Keep it.”

Din chuckled, ruffling the kid’s hair affectionately. “Thanks, Mayfeld. That’s very kind of you.”

“If he says it’s his,” the guard said, shifting his weight. “It’s his. I ain’t gonna argue with a freaking toddler.”

He grinned, not that Migs would see it. “Wise decision.”

“Hmm.” Migs heaved a breath and then offered Din a hand. “Let’s get you inside and patched up. I know you Mandos don’t do the while showing-your-face thing so there’s a spare room at the back. I promise the door locks, too.”

“Thanks,” Din said, letting Migs pull him to his feet. He hesitated, glancing at the mare. “And Crest?”

“There’s room in the stables. Just grab what you need and I’ll get her sorted out for you.”

Din grunted in response and set the kid down, watching him toddle off back inside. Then he glanced over at Migs, panting slightly as he tugged the broken bow off the saddle and the saddlebags off her back. Putting weight on his knee was a bad fucking idea. Migs was watching him closely, a tiny little frown creasing the skin between his eyebrows. 

“Help me inside?” he asked as he threw the bow and saddlebags over one shoulder, lifting the other arm to show him what he meant. Migs ducked beneath it, supporting him as he half-limped into the guard shack. And it was definitely a shack—a mostly hurriedly put together, hodge-podge of mismatched materials and random bits and pieces of discarded wood and furniture. But there was a room at the back with a lock and that’s all Din cared about. 

Once ensconced within said room with the door locked and thankfully alone with the kid, Din relaxed. He finally, _finally_ , felt safe enough to pull all his armour off, roll into the only bed and sleep. He probably shouldn’t have been so trusting, but honestly? Din was fucking _exhausted_. He _needed_ the rest.

**Author's Note:**

> Mando'a Translations:
> 
> Udesii, ad'ika, udesii - Easy, kid, easy


End file.
